


Power of Three

by marginaliana



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Multi, Pre-Deathly Hallows, fest fic, fest: snupin santa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-01-13
Updated: 2007-01-13
Packaged: 2017-10-05 16:23:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marginaliana/pseuds/marginaliana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione Granger was a sensible young woman of twenty who valued education and had nothing but respect for her former teachers. Or so she told herself as she stood in the cloudy November daylight, preparing to knock on the door of a small, dingy house in Spinner's End and ask two of said former teachers for lessons in sex magic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Power of Three

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bethbethbeth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bethbethbeth/gifts).



> Beta by mad_maudlin and bronze_ribbons.

Hermione Granger was a sensible young woman of twenty who valued education and had nothing but respect for her former teachers. Or so she told herself as she stood in the cloudy November daylight, preparing to knock on the door of a small, dingy house in Spinner's End and ask two of said former teachers for lessons in sex magic.

She was thinking about her own seventh year independent study project, which had become a requirement since, in addition to being the only student of her year to actually return to Hogwarts after the war, she had already more than mastered the normal N.E.W.T. level curriculum. Yes, she was definitely thinking about the angle of the wrist in arithmantical calculations with respect to spell potency, and not at all thinking about her former professors in the altogether, where wrist angles and potency took on a whole new meaning. Yes, definitely.

Hermione shook her head free of all the things she was absolutely not thinking and knocked firmly. The sound echoed through the street for a long moment and Hermione gave serious thought to just asking Madam Pince to recommend some reading. Instead she gathered up her Gryffindor courage and waited.

_If I am going to learn this,_ she told herself sternly, _I am going to learn from the best._

Just then the door swung open.

"Merlin's fucking testicles," said Snape's tired voice. "Haven't you any other Slytherins to uplift with your shining presence, Miss Granger? I thought I'd seen the last of you."

Hermione's irritation flared. "Yes, clearly I'm here to shower you with joy and delight," she said flatly. "No, no, don't thank me." Another voice sounded from behind the tall, dark man.

"Scaring off another one, Severus? Might I remind you that we _do_ have to make a living here?"

Snape snorted. "See for yourself." He stepped aside and Hermione's irritation faded a little as Remus Lupin emerged from the dark shadows within the house.

"Hermione!" said Lupin, smiling. "How are you?"

"Fine," she said.

"School going well?" he inquired. "Oh, where are my manners? Do come in." A moment later she found herself being shuffled past Snape (who raised one eyebrow sardonically but remained blissfully silent) into a small sitting room with a chair and sofa. Lupin took her cloak and supplied a cup of tea with a neat wave of his wand. She sipped it, grateful for a moment to get her bearings.

"So what brings you by?" asked Lupin, and took a sip of his own.

"I want to learn about sex magic," she said, and then carefully wiped away the tea that Lupin spluttered all over her face. "_Scourgify,_" she said calmly as Lupin coughed out the portion that had gone into his lungs, and waved off his apologies. "Don't worry. I've had worse from Ron."

_Although I should have had the forethought to expect such a reaction. See there? A lesson learned already._ This thought did not do as much to soothe her nervousness as she'd hoped.

Remus spluttered again, this time without the tea. "I'm not sure I appreciate that comparison." Hermione opened her mouth to respond but another voice interrupted.

"Fascinating as Mr. Weasley's unsavoury habits may be, and leaving the matter of his having any savoury habits at all up for debate, I find myself more interested in the professed purpose of your visit," Snape drawled, now leaning against the doorway of the sitting room. Hermione rolled her eyes but let the slur pass.

"I want to learn about sex magic," she repeated. "I'm doing an independent study project in Arithmancy and Charms, and I've read just enough to believe that sex magic could provide a valuable supplement to the arguments I've made in my essay so far. And everything I've read says that the best way to learn it is from an expert in the field."

"So you came _here_?" Snape's voice was skeptical. Hermione blushed, remembering how many disturbed nights it had taken her to get used to the idea.

"I asked around first," she said in an attempt at her best matter-of-fact manner, "but yes." Then she lied. "It wasn't too much of a surprise in any case. Both of you are known for your expertise with the Dark Arts."

"But not necessarily for our sexuality." Snape said evenly.

"Does it matter?" Hermione countered. "A lesson is a lesson. Will you deny that you know enough to teach me?" She fixed him with a determined gaze and held it for a long moment.

Lupin broke in. "In this case," he said reasonably, "it does matter. You can't learn the lesson unless you have the full experience, which involves the giving and receiving of pleasure. That's why it's usually done only between two people who are already attracted to each other, like Severus and I."

Hermione wondered if Lupin had meant to reveal that tidbit of information, then glanced at Snape's face and decided he probably had – Snape didn't look any more wrathful than usual. Had they, Hermione asked herself, been together first, or had they become business partners and then lovers? She did not think that Snape would have consented to work with Lupin had they not already developed some sort of friendship, or at least tolerance, between them. And yet she could not imagine how such a situation would have come about, considering how venomously they'd behaved towards each other during those last few months of the war. A business arrangement seemed so much more likely, given that despite an Order of Merlin each, neither man was considered quite respectable enough to be employed elsewhere.

_Or perhaps it was as sudden for them as it was for everyone else. They say the line is thin between love and hate._

Hermione blushed again and cursed herself for being silly. "I don't know about the giving," she mumbled, "but I don't think the receiving will be a problem." Lupin looked at her skeptically. "Oh, for Merlin's sake," she said. "You've each featured in my fantasies a time or two, so I'm sure I can hold up my end of the bargain if you can _get_ up yours."

Snape made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a snort and Lupin glared at him.

"It isn't that simple, Hermione," he began, then was interrupted by a pointed cough.

"Go back to school, Miss Granger," said Snape. Hermione's heart sank, but he continued. "Lupin and I will consider it and owl you within the week. If we cannot come to an agreement I will have some other contacts for you."

"Thank you, sir," said Hermione in her most decorous manner, and she stood, letting Snape retrieve her cloak without further comment. "I look forward to your owl."

\-----

Two days later the owl came at breakfast in the Great Hall. Hermione merely tucked the note into the pocket of her cloak quietly, but she itched for a quiet moment to read it. After Potions with Slughorn, she slipped into an empty classroom in the dungeons and cast the appropriate locking and silencing charms before unfolding the small piece of paper.

_Miss Granger,_

To prove your sincerity, you will meet Lupin and myself in Diagon Alley two days hence at 3 pm in the space between the junk shop and Obscurus Books. You will be prepared as in chapter three of the Liber A'ash vel Capricorni Pneumatici. Do not be late.

It was unsigned, but Hermione could hardly fail to recognize Snape's angular, almost fierce handwriting – the same as it had been on six years' worth of essays. She let out an elated squeal.

\-----

On the appropriate day at precisely 2:50 pm Hermione slipped between the two buildings and, seeing no one, stifled the urge to pace, choosing instead to begin her breathing exercises. Underneath her cloak she wore only a thin, un-dyed cotton robe and she shivered as the cold November wind blew around her ankles. She closed her eyes and emptied her lungs, pushing away her nervous thoughts as she exhaled.

_Don't think about anything,_ Hermione told herself firmly. _Don't think about what will happen if you fail this test – if you can't prove yourself._ She inhaled slowly, filling her lungs from the bottom upwards and feeling the brisk, fresh air slide into a stomach churning with uncertainty. _Just do this,_ she thought firmly. _You can do this._ Then she repeated the process, pushing away another set of thoughts and worries with her breath. _Don't think about what it means to be a vessel, to be passive. Don't think about giving up control of your body. Don't think about whether or not gaining control of this magic is worth the temporary submission._ Inhale. _You can do this._ Exhale. _Don't think about what use you'll put this knowledge to when you finally leave school. Don't think about whether you should never have gone back in the first place._

Five minutes later she opened her eyes and started at the sight of both Snape and Remus watching her from only a few feet away. Irritated at herself, she ran through the breathing again, slowly, this time with her eyes open.

"Passable," said Snape when she'd finished, but Hermione refused to rise to the bait. She waited silently for instruction and when Lupin slowly nodded in approval she knew she'd passed the test. If there was one thing she'd gained from the war, it was the importance of shutting up when necessary, though somehow she'd thought Snape would be more likely to appreciate that change than Lupin.

"_Silencio,_" Lupin said, sealing off the sounds of the tiny alleyway. He guided Hermione into a position against the wall of the junk shop and used a large hand to raise both her arms above her head while the other unbuttoned her cloak. She shivered but made no move to bring them down, even when he took his hand away. Her eyes flickered to the end of the alleyway where the bustle of Diagon Alley could just barely be seen between the two walls and she swallowed. The silencing spell would allow them to make noise without being noticed, but they could still be found if anyone should see a fluttering white shift out of the corner of their eye.

Snape gave her a long look, then shivered himself as Lupin pulled him into a passionate kiss. In the close quarters of the alley, Hermione could see the way Lupin's tongue slid between Snape's thin lips, stroking almost casually from one side of his mouth to the other. She felt her heart begin to race at the sight. Then Lupin went further, slipping one hand into Snape's cloak, caressing his chest. Snape's head was thrown back as he arched into Lupin's touch, exposing the long, pale line of his neck, and Hermione's eyes widened.

She'd thought of Snape as a sexual person before, of course – she hadn't been lying during her visit to Spinner's End. But she'd never imagined him as the submissive partner. Snape was, in public, so obviously dominant, so obviously determined to be in control. And yet here he was, willingly giving up that control to Lupin, who seemed normally such a passive person. It was a complete reversal of the roles they played in everyday life, and Hermione was as aroused by that thought as she was frightened by the realisation that she obviously didn't know either of them as well as she'd imagined.

Then Lupin removed Snape's cloak, revealing a cotton shift much like Hermione's, though it only came down to just above his knees. Hermione couldn't take her eyes off those knees. It was more than she'd ever seen of him. They were thin and pale with a fine dusting of dark hair, and she wondered what it would feel like to touch him there. Would it be rough like her own stubbly leg hair, or would it be smooth and natural, having (presumably) never felt the harsh scrape of a shaving charm? She wondered whether the rest of him would have the same texture. Lupin slid his hand along the path that Hermione's thoughts traced and he smiled at her as if he were a Legilimens.

When she could think again, her eyes were drawn to a thin chain around Snape's neck, from which hung a gaudy silver locket. _Odd,_ she thought dazedly. _Won't that interfere with the ritual? I suppose Snape must know what he is doing, so he must be wearing it for a reason._

Before Hermione could follow that train of thought, however, Lupin began murmuring something in Snape's ear and settled back against the opposite wall with only a parting twist to one of Snape's hard nipples. Snape turned to Hermione and looked her slowly up and then down until she blushed, hard. He bared his teeth in something that was almost a grin, then stepped forward.

This was the Snape she had been expecting. First his mouth came down on her neck, right at the edge of the shift's collar, licking along the juncture between neck and shoulder. Then he bit down and she shuddered, clinging onto the brick above her head with grim determination even as the rest of her body cried out for more touch. Snape seemed to know what she wanted, however, and he pressed his whole body against hers, trapping her between himself and the building, his cock hard and insistent against her thigh. She opened her mouth to cry out and then bit her lip as he shook his head firmly.

Over Snape's shoulder Hermione could see Lupin, his own cloak removed to reveal the same plain garment, leaned against the alley wall and stroking himself slowly through the fabric. His obvious delight in watching and being watched excited her, and she wondered if perhaps this was why they'd chosen such an open location. As he met her eyes Lupin smiled fiercely and shoved himself upright, stepping purposely forward until all three of them were pressed together.

Hermione was no longer cold despite the continued chill of the wind. Instead she was flushed and sweating, their three bodies grinding together for a long moment. She shifted her hips, desperate for Snape's thigh to press between her legs at just the right angle, and both men smirked eerily almost in unison. Then Snape's hand was lifting the thin white cotton and slipping between her thighs. She was more than ready for him, and his fingers slid between her slick folds easily. Hermione could tell from the way Snape spread his legs and arched backwards that Lupin was preparing him as well, and the mental image of how the two of them must have done this before made her eyes widen.

But had they, she wondered, done this – this being a nebulous category which included the phrases "in front of someone else" and "in an alley" and "hard and fast with Lupin dominating" – before? The ritual, she knew, required each of them to maintain a designated role, and Snape seemed to be able to take his part effortlessly. As Lupin's hand worked between Snape's legs, his other arm crossed over Snape's chest protectively, muscles flexing as their bodies moved together. Snape's fingers slowed between Hermione's legs as Lupin's movements dominated his attention.

Finally, Lupin pressed a kiss to Snape's shoulder and thrust forward in an achingly slow movement. Hermione realized she was holding her breath. Then Snape pushed his hips backward, and the two of them pulled away from her for a moment as they settled into a rhythm. The locket on its chain swung with Snape's movements and it seemed to glow in the pale light. Hermione felt her heartbeat begin to pulse in the same rhythm. The wind twisted between her body and Snape's, teasing at her exposed skin and the slick wetness on her thighs.

Then Lupin guided their bodies forward again and Snape slid one long-fingered hand up from Hermione's shoulder to her wrists, still shakily held above her head. The other hand cupped her breast, carefully stroking the rough cotton fabric over her nipple. He met her eyes, waiting. _There's no turning back after this,_ she thought. And then, a little frightened, _No, I passed that point long ago. I _have_ to do this._ After a long moment she nodded, tipping her head back in submission.

Snape's hands slid down to Hermione's waist and lifted her a few inches against the brick. He thrust into her and all three of them were pressed roughly together, as if with enough pressure they could become one. Hermione felt oddly full, full in a way that she'd never known herself to be empty.

As the three of them established a new rhythm, Hermione began to feel the magic building. All things, she knew, were made up of givers and receivers. Lupin, in the dominant position, was the giver; Hermione, on the opposite end, was the receiver. Snape, however, being in the middle, was both a giver and a receiver, which meant that he would be the guide of whatever power they generated. And oh, Merlin, Hermione thought, surely the passers by in Diagon Alley would sense the magic and come investigate, and she didn't know what would happen then.

But the magic was building and she couldn't think anymore. Magic was like the ocean, always there, the current moving underneath, and people were like the land – some together in large masses, some standing alone. Right now the magic was like a wave arching towards the shore, sliding around them and building, building, building. Snape's legs were sweat-slick against Hermione's as he rocked his hips in time with both of his partners. Lupin's gray-brown hair mixed with Snape's long, dark locks as their heads rested together.

Soon the magic swelled and Hermione felt it crashing through her into Snape, transfixed between the two of them. Lupin must have felt it, too, for he cried out, the words of the spell rising above them like the white foam on the wave. Hermione repeated the cry in turn and felt the magic swirl up and through Snape's body. Over the rushing in her ears she could faintly hear him say the words a third time, and then he came, writhing and spilling out his seed into her body as the magic peaked and swallowed them all in a dazzling rush of light and pleasure.

When Hermione could see and think again she was still pressed against the wall and both Snape and Lupin were breathing heavily. She lowered her arms and shook some feeling into them, then carefully began to untangle Snape's hair from where it stuck, matted, to the side of his face. He started, then gave her a nod of approval. Slowly they pulled their bodies apart, with much exaggerated wincing from Lupin.

"I'm not as young as I used to be," he commented wryly, stretching his neck to one side so that it cracked loudly.

"I was never that young," said Snape. Lupin snorted.

"All right, Hermione?" he asked. She nodded, swallowing, a strange feeling of loneliness stealing over her at the obvious affection the two of them had for each other. _Will I ever find something like that?_

"Fine," she said, clearing her throat.

Snape straightened his cotton shift and hefted the silver locket in one hand, eyeing it dubiously. He reached for his cloak and wand.

"Come on, Severus," said Lupin. "If that didn't do it I don't know what will. That was quite a bit of power we put into you."

"Constant vigilance," Snape said mildly. He tapped the locket with his wand. "_Ruach._" Nothing happened. After a moment Lupin let out a puff of breath.

"Excellent," he said, reaching for his own cloak. "Well, Hermione, consider this your first lesson. What have you learned?"

She opened her mouth, then shut it again. Snape smirked and slipped his cloak on. She eyed him with a sour look and chose her words carefully.

"That," said Hermione, pointing at the locket, "is a Horcrux. Which we have now destroyed. And we had to do the ceremony here in the alley because this is where it was made. Am I right?"

"Very good," said Lupin. "Care to guess who it belonged to?"

Hermione refused to admit that she hadn't a clue. "Someone who frequents dodgy alleyways," she muttered. Snape pursed his lips.

"Brilliant insight, Miss Granger."

Hermione growled at him, frustrated at being treated like a schoolgirl, and angrily wrapped herself in her cloak. "A person with atrocious taste in jewelry."

Snape gave her a dark look and Lupin laughed. "Accurate enough. We'll come back to it. What else have you learned?"

She took a deep breath and chose her words even more carefully. "There is power," she said, "in the rejection of one's accustomed role. Of course the normally submissive person can gain power by choosing to dominate. That is obvious. But in some ways the normally dominant person can have even more power by choosing to submit because it demonstrates both control and sacrifice."

The two men exchanged a look.

"You may return to Spinner's End next Saturday for another lesson," said Snape, and Hermione would have danced a jig if she hadn't been completely exhausted.

"Thank you, sir," she said.

"Demonstrate your gratitude with hard work," he replied. "Since it seems you have little else to offer."

Hermione took a deep breath and opened her mouth to rage at him, then stopped and let it out again. _Snape will never change,_ she thought, amused. _But I've changed. Now that I've seen those knobbly knees, he'll never intimidate me the same way again._

Slowly a smile spread across her face and before she knew it she'd begun to laugh. It started out as a chuckle and then turned into full-fledged guffaws until she was bracing herself against the brick of the bookstore, tears streaming down her cheeks. When she'd calmed enough to wipe her eyes, Lupin merely raised an eyebrow and Snape was looking off towards Diagon Alley, his cheeks suspiciously flushed.

"Are you quite finished?" he asked dryly, and she laughed again, long and loud, until Snape pulled Lupin away muttering about Gryffindor insanity. Lupin smiled and gave her a friendly wave as he let himself be hustled out into Diagon Alley proper.

Hermione shook her head wonderingly. _It's too bad,_ she thought, _that I can never, ever tell anyone about this. It would make for fascinating research. I wonder if there is a difference in the equations when one is calculating for spells with two similar personalities versus for spells with complementary personalities._ She sighed. _But if I did write about it, no one would believe me._ Suddenly, the thought of equations penetrated her fogged brain.

"Blast!" she said loudly. "I forgot to pay attention to the wrist angles!" Before she could chastise herself further, a man looked in from Dialgon Alley and gave her a concerned look.

"Are you all right, miss?" he asked solicitously.

Hermione realized what she must look like, alone in a disreputable alley wearing a cloak and no shoes and talking to herself, and almost started laughing again.

"I'm fine, thank you," she said, and pushed past the man out into the crowded thoroughfare. "Just testing an experimental spell on some pigeons." She strode away forcefully, though not without hearing the man say, in a bewildered tone, "But pigeons don't have wrists!"

_There's always the next lesson,_ she reminded herself. _There's so much to learn anyway, that I suppose it doesn't matter what order I learn it in._ She grinned. _And anyway I did it! I proved I can handle sex magic._ Then her brow furrowed as nervousness returned. _Oh, who am I kidding? I may have managed submission, but I sure haven't managed to master the rest of it. If I keep on, one of these days I may have to dominate Snape!_

The mental image that conjured up was enough to send Hermione into another fit of hysteria, and she was still laughing as she raised her wand and Apparated away.


End file.
